"Hm, it does not seem to be faring well for my old friend," Scourge remarked, chin in servo and nodding solemnly. "I believe the eons might have finally caught up to him and his reflexes."

"Hey!" His grave judgement earned him a none-too-gentle tweak on the beard from the minibot sitting beside him. "That's my conjunx and your amica you're talking about!"

"Yes," he agreed, not skipping a beat, "and as such you should trust me to know better than anyone when the old gallium goat is in over his helm."

--

It echoed through the Lost Light in rumors and wary mutterings that had the whole ship on edge. Things started in Swerve’s, as they were wont to, because Chromedome told Skids, who mentioned it to Rung and was overheard by Bluestreak, who said something to Swerve. Or maybe it was that Perceptor complained to Mainframe, who tried to scare Jackpot with it, who complained to Trailbreaker who was very drunk at that particular moment and not especially good at volume control.

(The fact of the Lost Light’s particular gossip chain was that Swerve and Swerve’s were the end of the grapevine—the only question was how it had gotten there).

In any case, by the time it reached command, and command subsequently reached Brainstorm’s lab, the rumors were particularly aggrieved. As they stepped into the corridor, both Rodimus and Megatron were wearing the same kind of aggrieved frown.

“Maybe he’s just trying to build some good-guy-bad-guy gun again,” Rodimus suggested, but he didn’t sound particularly convinced of this.

“That,” Megatron said dourly, “sounds entirely idiotic.” And he slammed his fist against the door, making it echo. “Brainstorm. Come out of there.”

The door did not open, but after some ominous rattling and shuffling and yelps from inside, they heard Brainstorm’s voice. “What?”

“They’re saying you’re working on something big in there,” Rodimus called through the door. “And there’s something about mistletoe…? The complaint, uh, wasn’t exactly clear. But mind giving us a hint?”

“Yes,” Brainstorm said, stiffly. “It’s nothing dangerous. Ask Nautica. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve got work to get back to.”

A few moments later, some sort of horribly loud grinding sound started up in the lab, and neither Megatron nor Rodimus could get any more response out of Brainstorm over the din.

Nautica, it turned out, wasn’t much help either. “He said something about a… interlude device?” she said, pulling herself out of the engines to look down at the two of them. “He was muttering about manipulating event probabilities and he said something weird about filler episodes and Swearth.”

“He was, was he,” Megatron said, thunderously.

“At least it’s not time travel,” Rodimus said, but he was on the edge of throwing up his hands. “We’ll send Percy after him. And then we’ll get someone else to translate Perceptor. And then we’ll make Brainstorm stop it.”

--

Perceptor, it turned out, could get into Brainstorm’s lab just by knocking on the door, but from the exasperated look on his face, he was not particularly pleased to see the state of it. Understandably so, considering how much clutter there was filling it.

“Brainstorm,” Perceptor said, crossing his arms. “What on Cybertron have you been doing in here? You haven’t left in a week.”

“I’m creating an interlude device!” Brainstorm crowed. “Working title. After the whole Unicron thing, I started getting this idea—couldn’t we use a break from time to time between saving the universe? To recover and reinvigorate our spirits and maybe get up to some goofy hijinks. Don’t you think we could use a break for a while? Think of it as my, ah, apology gift to the ship.”

“I think,” Perceptor said, “it sounds entirely impossible. I’m going to have to insist that you get out of the lab for a while—I’ll supervise you myself if I have to. I hear Swerve is throwing a celebration in his bar. That will suffice.”

@ferrum-negative

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Transformers - All Media Types, The Transformers (IDW Generation One) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Scourge/Grotusque, Cyclonus/Tailgate Characters: Scourge (Transformers), Grotusque (Transformers), Tailgate (Transformers), Cyclonus (Transformers), Whirl (Transformers), Brainstorm (Transformers), Hot Rod | Rodimus | Rodimus Prime, Megatron (Transformers), Ultra Magnus Additional Tags: PTSD, Fight Club - Freeform, body painting, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Slow Burn, Oblivious, Gay, GAY GAY GAY GAY GAY GAY, Mutual Pining, rarepair hell Summary:

"I'm startin' to think you're goin' soft, Mustache. I didn't even feel that last pun--" He reeled as Scourge caught him square in the chest with a quick. "Oof, there we go!"

"If only you were as quick to move as you are to quip," the blue mech countered, wings snapping up to block the Monsterbot's punches. "You might win a few more matches."

"Aw, but then who else'd let you win as often as I do?" Grotusque took advantage of the moment to swiftly step behind Scourge. He wrapped his arms around his partner's sides, effectively pinning both his wings and arms.

"After all, someone's gotta keep that ego of yours from gettin' too dented," he rumbled cheekily.

"It is not the only thing about to get dented." After which he promptly snapped his helm back and hit Grotesque full under the chin.

---